Motionless
by everytimeyougo
Summary: She hated herself for it, or maybe she only wished she did, but she was glad that the others had gone. House/Cameron. A different ending for Human Error.
1. Running in Place

**Motionless, Part 1 of 2 **

The sun had gone down over Princeton, New Jersey several hours before and most of the city was quietly preparing for bed. But, as most everyone knows, hospitals never really sleep and there were still parts of Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital that were alive with activity. However, the floor that housed the Department of Diagnostic Medicine was not one of those parts. And while at first glance the department in question appeared to be just as dark and deserted as the rest of the floor, anyone looking more closely would have seen that each room of the two room suite had an occupant sitting alone in the semi-darkness. In the smaller of the two rooms, a private office, a scruffy, grey-haired man sat in an ugly yellow chair, his feet up on a matching footstool. He was staring blankly at the wall, a glass of amber coloured liquid in his hand. And in the adjoining conference room, a slight, brown-haired woman sat alone at a table far too large for one, typing in fits and bursts on her laptop with only the screen for light. A smile played at her lips and every so often she glanced covertly in the direction of the man in the office.

Cameron was happy. Elated, even. She hated herself for it, or maybe she only wished she did, but she was glad that the others had gone. Not that she had anything against Foreman or Chase. Okay, nothing against Foreman at any rate. Chase had been annoying the hell out of her lately with his professions of affection and his goddamned Tuesdays. That whole thing was a huge mistake; she could admit that now. At best, a lame attempt at moving on. At worst, a desperate woman screaming at a disinterested man – _notice me!_ Maybe some combination of the two. Not that the notice me part had worked; not really anyway, though she'd swear she'd heard a hint of _something_ in his voice a few weeks back, when he'd first found out that she was sleeping with Chase. He'd accused her of working her way through all of the men in the department...

"_Do you love him?" he'd demanded._

_No, there's only you, she'd thought sadly._

Chase may not have deserved to have been fired today, but it wasn't really any concern of hers and it had neatly solved her problems with the blond, Australian doctor. As for Foreman, well, he was happy to be gone, so she figured that it was okay to be happy on his behalf. He had never really had gotten how lucky he was to be here, to be learning from the best there was. She'd never understood that about him, and now she doesn't understand how he could willingly leave. She mentally shrugged; Foreman's loss was her gain. Now she had House all to herself, though she knew it was only temporary. Eventually there would be others; Dr. Cuddy would make sure of that. But for now, it was just them and finally her chance had come – her chance to somehow make him see her. She had a plan. She would make herself indispensible, even more than she already had. She'd take over even more of the department's administrative functions. She knew he had been putting off completing his budget; she could do that for him. She'd spend all her evenings and days off studying rare diseases so she could impress him in differentials. She'd make him coffee and do his clinic hours and bring him lunch when she knew Wilson was unavailable. He would gradually come to depend on her, to need her by his side. By the time he got around to hiring anyone else, she'd be firmly ensconced as his right hand. Then, once she'd accomplished that, she'd work on taking their relationship outside of work. Maybe she could somehow come into possession of tickets to some event he'd enjoy – monster trucks, or a concert, or some kind of sports thing. Or maybe one night she'd just show up at his place with a bottle, get him drunk, and jump him. After all, he'd kissed her back once before.

She tapped her fingers on the table in front of her and chanced another glance into his office. He was still there, sitting in his chair, sipping at his scotch and staring at nothing. He wasn't happy; she could tell. But then, when was he ever? She wondered if he regretted firing Chase. She knew he didn't want Foreman to go, but he wasn't given much of a choice there. I'll be enough, she promised him silently. You'll see.

She looked back down at her laptop and clicked the button that would send into cyberspace the email she had written her brother. She had finished all her work some time ago and had been hanging around hoping to have some kind of interaction with House before she went home. Unfortunately for her, it had become increasingly obvious that he wasn't going to seek her out. At this point she doubted he even realized she was still there. She was just going to have to go to him. Trying her hardest to ignore the butterflies on speed that had taken up residence in her abdomen, she closed the cover of her laptop, took a deep breath and walked over to the door of his office.

After tapping lightly on the door, she pushed it open and cautiously entered his office. He didn't so much as look up to acknowledge her presence and so she stood there in the doorway nervously chewing on her bottom lip as she tried to decide what to say. Just as she'd decided that this wasn't a good time to put her plan into action and that a simple 'Good night, House' would suffice, he spoke.

"You coming to tell me you're leaving too?"

Taken aback, she blurted without thinking, "No, of course not. I'll never leave you." The instant the words left her mouth, she knew she'd said the wrong thing. Let it go, let it go, she chanted to herself.

Not a chance.

He was looking at her now, contempt plain on his face. "You're pathetic."

"What? Why? Because I like my job?" she asked, trying to downplay her kneejerk comment.

"No, if it were simply a matter of liking your job, you would have said 'No plans to' or 'For now, but I'll be back in the morning.' But _you_ said 'I'll never leave you.' Sounds a wee bit obsessive to me. _That's_ why you're pathetic. It's not the job you're staying for. It's me. Everything you do is about me."

"God, House, it was a just figure of speech." She turned to leave the room, but his voice stopped her.

"You'll understand if I don't believe you. You are, after all, the same woman who blackmailed me into dating her only two short years ago."

She turned back around to face him. "Right. And that worked out oh-so-well for me."

"On the contrary, it didn't work out well at all," he contradicted, deliberately missing her sarcasm. "And yet, here you still are. Like I said - pathetic. Give it up, Cameron. You don't belong here anymore. I've taught you all that I can. It's time for you to leave the nest, put all the knowledge I've crammed into that pretty little head to good use. Go find a new job and go find someone else to fix. Or to fix you. Whatever it is you're looking for these days."

"You don't mean that," she said, starting to panic and trying to hide it. "You're just upset over Foreman and Chase leaving. I'll do us both a favour and leave now before you say something you'll regret."

"For fuck's sake, Cameron," he growled. "Haven't I managed to kill that naiveté yet? I'm not upset about Foreman and Chase leaving. I fired Chase, remember? And Foreman is just doing what's best for himself. That's what he _should_ be doing. It's also what _you_ should be doing. And I'm not going to regret anything I say to you. That would imply that I give a shit about how my words affect you. Which I don't." He took a swig his drink and looked away, dismissing her.

Something inside her broke at his words. She'd show him pathetic - she had nothing left to lose. She approached his chair, standing so close to him that he had to tilt his head back to look up at her. The words flowed from her mouth of their own volition. "What's wrong with me? Why don't you want me? Don't you get it? Don't you feel it? We could be so good together if you'd just give me a chance to show you." She moved to sit beside him on the edge of the chair. "Let me show you," she said as reached out touch the side of his face. "Let me show you," she repeated softly, as she leaned in closer.

His hand shot out to capture her wrist. "What are you doing?" he demanded. "Is this supposed to be a turn-on? You think begging is going to make me fall in love with you?"

"No. But I can make you want me. Gotta start somewhere," she whispered as she leaned still closer and pressed her lips to his. At the same time she pulled her wrist free from his grasp and captured his own hand, bringing it to her chest to cup her breast through her thin top. He sat, still as a stone, not participating, but not pulling away either. And not moving his hand from where she had placed it, she noted as she continued to kiss him, darting her tongue out to taste his lips.

After several long seconds, a low rumble sounded from somewhere deep in his throat and suddenly he was kissing her back with a passion she had only seen a hint of the first time she had kissed him. His hand came to life on her breast, squeezing and moulding it and her nipple hardened under his touch. She parted her lips and his tongue immediately invaded her mouth, running over her teeth and teasing the sensitive roof of her mouth. She moaned into his mouth as one of her hands found its way into his hair and the other ran up and down his t-shirt clad chest. He reached down and grabbed the hem of her top, pulling up in a demand for her to remove it. She pulled away and complied, pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it aside, enjoying the look on his face when her lacy red bra came into view.

He tried to pull her back to her previous position, but she was having none of it. She had other ideas. Trailing her hand carefully up his inner thigh, she reached his crotch and paused long enough to feel the effect she had already had on him. Staring into his eyes, she rubbed harder and licked her lips. His eyes widened as he got her meaning, before he closed them and laid back in his chair, allowing her to take over. She eased down his zipper and freed his hardness from its confines before leaning down and taking him into her mouth. She held back nothing, licking and sucking and nibbling with one hand wrapped around the base of his cock and the other fondling his balls. He was moaning and his hand was tangled up in her hair. His grip tightened to the point of hurting her as he came with a curse, into her mouth.

She sat back up, and smiled at him, but his eyes were still closed and he didn't see her. She waited a moment for his breathing to return to normal before leaning down to kiss him again. The instant her lips touched his, his eyes flew open and his hand caught her mid-chest, carefully but firmly pushing her away. "Put your top back on, Cameron."

"What? But..."

"Put your top back on. This changes nothing." He stood up and fixed his pants before reaching down and picking up her shirt off the floor. He tossed it at her motionless form still sitting on the chair. He looked down at the floor, scrubbing his face with his hand. He inhaled deeply and blew it out slowly before asking her gently, "Why are you still here? Is this all you want to be? The bed mate of a middle-aged, physically and emotionally crippled, drug addicted son of a bitch? Because that's all I can offer you. You stay here with me and there will be no romance, no marriage, no children. Is that what you want your life to be?" He looked up at her, meeting her eyes. "Tell me, am I what your husband would have wanted for you? I can't love you, Cameron. I don't even want to. That will never change. "

She looked at the floor in front of her for a long time before she answered, tears forming in her eyes "You bastard," she said finally, sounding more sad than angry, more broken than bent. Without another word, without another glance in his direction, she pulled on her top, stood and walked out the door.

If she had looked at him in that last moment before she left, the lie he'd just told might have been visible in his stormy blue eyes. If she had lingered outside his door for a just few seconds, she might have heard him mumble, "Goodbye Cameron."

But she didn't.


	2. Reflections

**Motionless, Part 2 of 3**

A slim, attractive brunette in, perhaps, her late thirties entered the ornate hotel lobby on a frigid gust of wind. She paused, shivering, just inside the door and brushed melting snowflakes off her black woollen coat and shook them from her long, loose hair. It was a miserable night in January; a terrible time to be holding a fundraiser, in Allison Cameron's humble opinion. She looked around for some sign of where she was supposed to going. Spotting a crowd off to the left, she joined them, assuming from their manner of dress that they were attending the same benefit she was.

She hated these things at the best of times and having to endure the evening alone and with wet feet made it just that much more unappealing. What she wouldn't give to be home on the sofa with a book and a glass of wine. She struggled out of her coat and handed it to the young man working in the coat check room. As she smiled perfunctorily at him, she wondered when exactly one acquired enough seniority to be able to avoid these ridiculous fundraisers. With so much money spent on the party, she doubted there'd be much left over for the new clinic in Trenton they were supposedly supporting. A worthy venture to be sure, but she'd much rather just write a cheque, especially as attending meant she was out in what was shaping up to be at least a minor blizzard.

After a quick detour to the ladies room to repair the damage the snow and wind had done to her hair and makeup, she entered the ballroom and headed straight for the bar. She'd only taken a taxi to avoid driving in the snow, but she may as well take advantage of that fact. At least she'd get the wine she wanted. As she waited for the bartender to pour her a glass, a quick look around confirmed what she'd suspected - she knew no one here well enough to join them. None of the other department heads from her hospital had shown up, despite orders from the chairman of the board that they all attend. Pushing her annoyance aside, she tried to focus on the positive – no one else being here meant no one would know if she left early. As in, immediately after she finished the glass of wine the bartender was handing her. She accepted it and wandered away from the bar and towards the huge floor to ceiling windows on the other side of the room. It looked like the wind was picking up; snow was whipping around, painting everything it touched an icy white. The closer she got to the window, the less she could see of the courtyard beyond and the more it acted as a mirror, reflecting both her red dress and the room behind her. She stood there, watching the blurry people in the glass with disinterest, and sipped her wine. People were dancing and laughing and God, she wanted to go home. She was just about to turn around when her attention was caught by a tall man with a distinctive gait entering the ballroom. She stiffened in shock and something close to panic. No way, it couldn't be, could it? She squinted into the glass of the window, trying to see more clearly but already he was out of her range of vision. She took at deep breath, turned around, and scanned the room.

Her eyes found him standing alone on the opposite side of room, tuxedo-clad and windblown, looking like he'd rather be anywhere than where he was. He was, as always, a study in contradictions - beautiful in his dishevelment; giving off an aura of strength in spite of his handicap; looking both out of place in this environment and somehow above it all. She couldn't believe it had been so long since she'd seen him. Despite the fact that they lived and worked in the same town, he'd proven to be quite easy to avoid. As long as she stayed away from his hospital and his seedy bars, the odds of running into him were virtually nil. And she hadn't. Not once in nearly eight years. What the hell was he doing here, at a fundraiser, of all places? The Gregory House she knew wouldn't be caught dead at one of these things. Just as that thought slipped through her mind, a curvy brunette approached him, touched him lightly on the arm, and handed him a drink. Lisa Cuddy. Well, that explained it. The New Jersey medical community was small enough that she'd heard rumours of their relationship. Apparently they were more than just rumours. Her stomach twisted as she watched him smirk at something Cuddy said. She lifted her glass of wine to her lips and drained it. Just as she was lowering it, he seemed to sense her gaze and his head turned in her direction.

His face registered shock as he recognized her, though only for an instant. His characteristic smirk quickly fell back into place and he raised his glass to her briefly before turning back to Cuddy, who was now talking animatedly to a regal looking woman in a blue gown and hadn't noticed her date's momentary distraction. She tore her eyes away from him and turned back to the window, trying desperately not to think about how the last time she'd seen him she'd had his cum in her mouth. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she remembered how she'd behaved that night. She'd been such a fool back then and she hated the girl she'd been with a passion. Pathetic, just as he'd so often called her. The only way she could have been further beyond the pale was if he'd been married and she knew without a doubt that a ring on his finger wouldn't have stopped her either. Stupid, stupid girl, she cursed her former self. Stay the hell away from him. Stay the hell out of my head. Outside, the snow was starting to pile up. She should probably just go home.

She never went back after that awful night, never even officially resigned. She had no idea what he'd told Cuddy, or anyone else for that matter. In a desperate attempt to erase him from her internal world as completely as she had from her external world, she'd started going to counselling shortly after her abrupt departure from PPTH. To her own surprise, it had actually helped. She was able to work through a lot of the issues that had led to her unhealthy obsession with him. Her husband's death. Other things in her past that had led her to marry a man dying of cancer in the first place. Led to her attraction to damage. House had been right about her all along. No surprise really. He was right about everything. It had taken her a long time to realize what he had done for her that last night. She never would have left him on her own accord and never would have accomplished all she had if she'd stayed. Maybe they would have drifted into some kind of twisted relationship, maybe not. But she knew no matter what, no matter how miserable he made her, she never would have left as long as he'd allowed her to stay. For a long time she'd despised him for not loving her, but she understood now; he'd done her a favour. Could he have done it in a kinder way? Possibly. But with her being her and him being him...perhaps he'd done it in the only way it could've been done.

When applying for new positions, she'd had no choice but to use his name as a reference. After she'd landed a job in the Immunology Department at Princeton General, her new employer had commented on being impressed by his glowing recommendation, given House's reputation for being difficult. She assumed it had actually been Dr. Wilson he'd spoken to, until a few minutes later when the man mentioned that while he'd never met the infamous Dr. House, he knew his friend James Wilson quite well. Did she know him too? She didn't know what to think then, but she'd been grateful for House's uncharacteristic discretion nonetheless. She'd excelled in her new position and had been made Head of the Immunology Department a few years later.

Therapy had also finally taught her how to have a healthy relationship. She had been in one for years until it had ended, more or less amicably, five months ago when he'd accepted a job offer overseas. He had been a good man and had always treated her well. She still missed him sometimes, but she knew she'd made the right decision by considering her own needs and not following him blindly.

She rarely thought about House anymore.

"You're an idiot."

She jumped. Lost in thought, she hadn't noticed his approach. Recovering quickly, she asked, "What did I do this time?"

She watched his reflection in the window shrug. "Nothing. Just throwing it out there for old times' sake."

She turned around and smiled wryly at him. "Old times, huh? I wouldn't think you'd want reminders of those any more than I do."

He fixed his eyes on hers. "They weren't all bad."

She stared back him for long moment, wondering which memories he counted among the good ones. There were more than a few, she realized, but it had been years since she'd allowed herself to remember them. "No, I suppose not."

He tapped his cane a few times on the floor in front of him. "So, ah, I hear you're Head of Immunology at Princeton General now. Congratulations."

"Keeping tabs on me, House?"

"And you haven't been keeping tabs on me?"

"Nope."

"I don't believe you."

She shrugged and turned back to the window, hoping he couldn't see that her heart was about to pound through her chest wall. The snow was falling so thickly now that she couldn't see more than ten feet away.

"You, ah... You look good, Cameron."

She smiled at his reflection. "So do you. You should wear tuxes more often. Suits you."

He rolled his eyes.

"So, ah, wanna dance?"

She turned back around. "You can't be serious."

He snorted. "No. Obviously. Come on, let's get out of here. Go get a drink."

"Won't your date mind?"

"My what?"

"Didn't I see you with Dr. Cuddy earlier?"

He glanced away and muttered, "It's not like that," before looking back and smirking. "She required both an escort and a babysitter. Wilson and I drew straws. I got the short one. She needed someone to walk in with, but now she's hitting up donors and I was ordered to make myself scarce. C'mon, let's go."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and strode, in his inimitable way, towards the exit.

She didn't move. To follow or not somehow felt like a momentous decision.

When he was about fifteen feet away from her, he seemed to sense she wasn't behind him. He turned around. "Hey. You coming?" He extended his hand towards her.

_**A/N: Okay, new plan. Motionless was supposed to only be two chapters. But I'm only about halfway to where I want to be, it took me a week to get this far, and I don't like going much more than a week between updates. So...I'm posting what I have and Motionless is becoming three parts rather than two. I hope that's good news?**_


	3. Undone

**Motionless, Part 3 of 3**

Knowing she'd quite possibly live to regret it, she caught up to him in half a dozen steps. The hand he'd been holding out for her came around to rest briefly against the small of her back before dropping away.

"There's a bar," he said, "on the other side of the lobby. We can sit. Catch up."

"Okay," she replied cautiously as she walked beside him. She caught sight of Cuddy on the other side of the room, staring at her as though she were a ghost. She didn't meet her eyes, not wanting to talk to the other woman without knowing what House had told her about the circumstances surrounding her departure.

"I told her your father died and you needed some time off to go home and help your mother." House volunteered, apparently reading her mind. "She sent flowers."

"To whom? My father is alive and well, as far as I know."

He shrugged. "I picked out an obit off the Internet. The family of some dead guy in Wisconsin was probably pretty confused."

They left the ballroom and walked through the lobby to the hotel bar. It was dimly lit and nearly deserted, save for a couple of travelling salesmen types watching football at the bar. The young female bartender smiled at them as they entered and made their way to a table at the back of the room. A piano sat in off in a corner but no one was playing.

He pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit. Blinking in surprise, she slid into the seat. "What did you tell her when I didn't come back?"

"Don't look so surprised. My mother taught me manners. I told her that you'd accepted another job at Princeton General. Which, by that point, was true," House replied as he sat down across from her. "Wilson thought you'd come back in a day or so and resign. I figured you'd take a week, then come back and pretend like nothing had happened. Neither of us counted on you just not coming back at all."

"You told Wilson what happened?" She asked, horror-struck.

"Not all of it. Just that I'd tried to convince you it was time to move on and got you pissed at me. I left out the…personal stuff. I wasn't really interested in a lecture on sexual harassment in the workplace, or the dangers of taking advantage of young, impressionable employees."

"You didn't take advantage of me, House. As I recall, I didn't leave you with much of a choice."

He snorted. "With all due respect to your mad seduction skills, I'm not a teenage boy. I can control myself. I chose not to. I..." For a moment he looked like he was about to say more, but instead he rose from his seat and, without another word, limped off to the bar.

She stared after him and wondered what the hell she was doing. Being there with him was bring back feelings she thought long dead and buried. One drink, she told herself. One drink and then she'd go home and never see him again.

He returned with a scotch in one hand and a glass of wine in the other, his cane hanging from his left wrist. He set the drinks on the table and reclaimed his seat. "Red wine. That's what you were drinking, right?"

Nodding, she reached for the glass and took a sip as she searched her mind for a safer topic, finally focusing in on something he had mentioned earlier. "Did you say before that Cuddy needed a babysitter?"

"Yeah, Wilson's doing it."

"What would she need a babysitter for?"

"Duh, Cameron. For her _baby_." He frowned. "Though I suppose she's not a baby anymore. She's around five or six now. She was a baby though, when Cuddy adopted her."

"Really? I can't picture Cuddy as a mother. I guess a lot's changed since I've been gone."

"Yes and no. I'm pretty much the same asshole I've always been."

She smiled. "I'm glad to hear it. Some things shouldn't change."

"You're probably the only person on the face of the planet who thinks so," he countered, before taking a drink of his scotch.

She shook her head. "It took me awhile to get there. It's funny; I was always the first one to defend you, to ask why you needed to be like other people. But I couldn't see how I was doing the same thing the others were doing. By trying to force some kind of relationship between us, I was trying to make you into something you weren't. God, I was stupid. Pathetic. And you had me nailed right from the start." She stopped abruptly. "Sorry," she muttered, looking down at the table and playing with her wine glass.

His voice was low and gruff when he spoke. "Don't misunderstand, Cameron. It's not that I wasn't tempted. You...there was something there. Always, and right from the beginning. I didn't want to send you away, but I couldn't take advantage of whatever happened in your life to make you think someone like me was a good choice. Hero worship is no basis for a relationship. Anti-hero worship is worse."

"Someone like you?" she asked.

He shrugged. "You deserved better than me. I hope you found it." It was his turn to avoid her eyes and stare at the table.

"I was with someone for awhile. Now I'm not. But wait just a minute here. I think you're missing something important. You were right about me in so many ways. I was, well, a mess. ."

"I know..."

"I said just a minute." It was important to her that he understand. "I did think I could fix you, make your life better somehow. I can't deny that, but it wasn't a conscious thought. All I thought at the time was that you were brilliant, and vibrant, and sexy as hell, and I wanted _you_. It wasn't only the damage that attracted me." She reached across the table and laid a hand on his. "It was also _you_."

He let go of his glass and rested his other hand on top of hers, at the same time turning over the hand underneath hers, so that her hand was between his two palms. The fingers of his top hand moved against her knuckles and over the family ring she'd inherited from her grandmother. She looked at their entwined hands for a moment before looking up to find him watching her.

"Is it still?" he asked finally.

"I don't know," she whispered.

He looked off to the side and she could almost hear his internal debate. It sounded similar to the one she was waging with herself. This could be dangerous. It could also be amazing. He was still playing with her hand between his.

"I have a room," he said, apparently having come to some kind of decision. "Upstairs. One of my conditions for agreeing to be Cuddy's gigolo for the night."

"Was she supposed to be joining you in it?"

He shook his head. "No. I told you, it's not like that." He gestured behind her at a window she hadn't noticed. "I didn't want to worry about getting home in the storm. You could come up."

She nodded and they rose as one from the table, left the bar and walked back through the hotel lobby to the bank of elevators. His hand came to rest against the small of her back as they waited for a door to open. She shivered at his touch.

"Are you cold," he asked as they entered the elevator.

"No," she said simply, looking up at him.

He turned to face her, indecision sliding across his visage before being replaced with determination mixed with something softer that she couldn't, or didn't dare, identify. His hand slid from her back to her hip and his other hand reaching out to touch the side of her face. He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. She responded instantly and without thought, moving closer, wrapping her arms around his neck and opening her mouth. As his hand ran through her hair and his tongue slid against hers, some part of her mind registered the fact that this time, _he_ kissed _her_. In the deepest recesses of her mind, a younger version of herself smiled her approval.

* * *

Behind the hotel room door, old fears were shed along with clothing. Past mistakes were forgiven along with moments of nervous awkwardness. Hope for a second chance welled up along with desire.

"You still deserve better than me," he said from above her, his mouth inches away from hers, his fingers lightly running down her naked side.

"No one is better than you," she answered before she closed the gap.

No more words were spoken as he slid into her effortlessly and a timeless rhythm began.

* * *

The sun was shining, the storm having ended sometime in the middle of the night. She awoke to an empty bed and the ghost of a memory of a rough finger brushing her cheek and a low voice saying goodbye. She rose and stretched beautifully sore muscles before entering the tiny hotel bathroom. There on the vanity was a brief note scribbled on hotel stationery.

_You're not quite so pathetic anymore. Neither am I. You know where to find me. _

She looked into the mirror in front of her and smiled.

The End.

_**A/N: Thanks for reading everyone. I hope you liked it. I'm not usually one for sequels, but I'm tossing around ideas for one this time, since the ending was left so open.**_


End file.
